, 1887-03-26
LIE Fills DU JOUR DE IAN.

In the autumn of 1880 | was spending
a few weeks at the Hotel Christol in Bou-
logne-sur-Mer, which is but a short dis
lance by rail from Calais. This seaside
resort is n favorite place for both French
and English invalids, because the air is
generally fresh and well charged with
hat ndescribable but perfectly well I'M
derstood i%nvigorating element called
ozone. There is very little in the Bias
Vile that is of interest to q visitor, except
the Establishment de Nler, n large build
ing and garden at the northern end Of the
town, which are sacred TO the Pleasures of
the elite. There they dance, Promenade,
nirt, play billiards, bathe or spend hours
in the luxurious reading room, pertsing
the journals Of all parts of the civilized
world.
1t so happened that at the period of my
continually bad. The rain fell, the chill
and damp winds swept disagreeably
through the streets, and everybody seemed
to be on the verge of dying OF ennui. l,
with others, was one day flattening my
nose against the hotel window pones of
the general reception room, Watching the
shipping on the Liane or the blue bloused
ouvriers as they clattered in their sabots
through the splashing streets. Suddenly
the clouds broke up ard the sun shonc
brilliantly. Shortly afterward u crowd of
men and women approached the hotel
across the Lanes swinging bridge. They
were evidently in n state OF excitement,
and the object of their excitement seemed
to be in their midst, for the Women, men
and children ceased their chattering every
few moments to cast their eyes down or to
point their finger at something or some
body that was moving along in the center.
The procession of enthusiasts moved on
until they came to the quay. Then they
turned to the left and disappeared i'll the
Halle DIES Poissons. All | could observe in
the midst of this picturesque crowd was u
little boy, probably 10 years of age, who
walked with his eyes fixed steadily before
him as if he were totally Unconscious of
anything unusual going on around him.
His face, which was very regular, pale ind
beautiful, struck me as being somewhat
unearthly-ns if it were tinged by some
influence from heaven OF that mysterious
other land which no man can describe,
although regarding it he may have a
thousand fantastic and unstable %faucies.
"What n singular looking childl' 1 eX-
claimed to II French gentleman standing
next to mo at the window. THE poor boy
is evidently insane"
Pardon me, monsieur, y my companion
replied; I child is not insane. That is
little Jacopo, lie fills du jour dc Fan, who
is positively adored by the poorer Glasses
in this part of the country"
''The child of the New Year!'' L ex-
claimed, translating my friends remark.
"What n singular name. What does it
all mean2''
Come with me- said my companion.
"Wcll proceed, if You please, to the fish
market, where, nc Co1bt, you VII find Tie
fish women bowling and dancing and
throwing flowers on little ~Jacopo.'
We proceed to tho Halle des Poisson,
The sight that met my eyes was some
thing it would be very difficult to forget.
There stood the strange child, with the
pure white hair, In the center Of q group
Of excited men and women, whose bare
arms showed that they had just left their
stalls, They Were throwing flowers Mt
him and p%raising him in extravaganza
terms. He, all the time, took no notice
every few minutes exclaiming in n kind
OF ecstasy: Claire, ma Claircl' His dress
was %singularly neat, but of c~olorless white,
while his long hair fell over his shoulders
untrameled by cap of any kind.
THAT boy" said my friend, has Il
wonderful story in connection with his
short life, AMI these poor people look upon
his presence imong them as n good omen.
At this moment they arc blessing him for
that burst of sunshine which, a few min
utes ago, helped to make our lazy life en-
durable up there at the Hotel Christol.n
In the drawing room of our hotel my
friend told me the story of poor Jacopo;
Four years previous to the events herein
narrated Jacopo was left an orphan, to-
gether with his only sister, Claire. Both
belonged to the Haute Vile that frowns
down upon us up there as if in its pride of
age it scorned this p~lebe.an Bias Vile. They
became so attached to each other that
they were inseparable, and the %neighbors
loved them for their beauty. their limo
cence md their affection. The children
wandered hand in hand for hours through
the quiet old At times they
were found playing among the sand nc
cumulated in front OF the Porte Dune,
with its heavy and grim ~portcuilised
gate; Mt others they played in front of the
queer little house where GqSfrey de
3ouillon, the first crusa, err king Of
Jerusalem, a thousand years ago, was
born; but above all they loved to stroll
through the cathedral, gazing with awe
Mt everything-the great gold candles, the
splendid affairs, the valuable pictures OF
Christ and the Mother OF Sorrows, the
blue spangled arched roof with the yellow
stars, md the gruesome offerings made by
patients who had been cured Of mnladles
by persistent appeals 70 some f~avoritc
saint. They even spent hours among the
crypts, where endless tombs and n few
slots in the damp, bare walls made every
thin. look so weird and sup%ernaturally
solemn that, except in the daytime, not
even the bravcst OF the residents of the
Haute VILE would venture among them.
These children, however, were too innocent
to know fear. And so they went along to-
gether hand in hand through the grass
grown old streets OF Godfrey's birthplace.